by Lisa Jackson
Before Hayden could reply, John said, “My dad says that the owner of the place is a goddamned mean son of a—”
“John!” Nadine cried.
“Your dad is right,” Hayden replied with a glint in his eye.
John’s forehead creased into a frown.
“Hayden just inherited the mill from his father,” Nadine guessed, glancing at Hayden for reassurance. “He hasn’t owned it all that long. Daddy wasn’t talking about him.”
“You don’t like your dad?” Bobby wanted to know, and Nadine sent up a silent prayer. She didn’t want to get involved with Hayden, didn’t want her children feeling comfortable with him, didn’t want to know anything about his life.
“My dad’s gone,” Hayden said flatly. Then, as if seeing that the boy was still confused, he added, “We didn’t get along all that well. Never saw eye to eye.”
“My dad’s the greatest!” John said proudly as he threw his mother a defiant look.
Hayden’s lips turned down a fraction. “That’s how it should be.”
Satisfied that he’d made his point, John waved to his brother. “C’mon, Bobby. Let’s check out the boat!” John was already running down to the dock.
“Be careful. Don’t touch any—”
Hayden’s hand clamped over her shoulder and she gasped. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “No need to overmother them.”
“But—”
“I’ll wager they know how to handle a boat and what to steer clear of.”
“You don’t even know my boys,” she shot back indignantly.
“Maybe not. But I do know about mothers who are overprotective.”
His hand was still resting upon her shoulder, but she shrugged the warm palm away from her. “It’s none of your business how I raise my children, Hayden,” she said crossly.
“Just a little free advice.”
“Then it’s worth exactly what I paid for it—nothing.”
“Boys need to explore, check things out.”
“Is this something you’ve read or are you talking from experience?”
“I was a boy once.”
“I know,” she said, her heart thumping unnaturally. “I remember.”
His gaze sliced into hers, and though he didn’t say a word, the air seemed charged with silent accusations. To her disbelief she realized again that he seemed to be holding a grudge against her. As if in that faraway other lifetime she’d wronged him! As if he and his father hadn’t altered irrevocably the direction of her life! As if he hadn’t walked away from her and never so much as cast a glance back over his shoulder! Her insides were shredding, and she bit down on her lip so that she wouldn’t start throwing angry accusations his way.
Standing on the porch, being so close to him was awkward. Being near him was uncomfortable. And yet she had to be polite. He was, after all, her boss as well as her ex-husband’s employer. She dragged an invitation over her tongue. “If you’re not worried about the boys damaging your boat, why don’t you come in and have a cup of coffee?”
His dark brow arched. “Your husband won’t mind?”
“Not at all,” she replied quickly, and decided not to tell him that she was divorced. Not yet.
“A peace offering?”
“We got off on the wrong foot. I think we should try again.” The minute the last syllable left her lips, she wished she could call the words back, but she couldn’t. Silent, painful memories of their youth stretched between them.
His jaw tightened and he hesitated, glancing back at the boat. Nadine felt like a fool. Of course he wouldn’t take her up on her offer. He was just returning her ring and had probably delivered it himself to fire her in person. No doubt the minute she’d left his house, he’d phoned William Bradworth, set the attorney straight in a blistering conversation, managed to find out her address and had jetted across the lake hell-bent to hand over her walking papers. Well, she’d be damned if she’d make it easy for him.
“Okay. You’re on.” He surprised her by accepting and following her into the small cabin.
She poured coffee into two ceramic mugs, offered cream and sugar, then followed him back outside where she could sit on the porch and watch the boys.
Nadine blew across her cup and sat on the old porch swing. Hayden balanced his hips against the weathered rail, his back to the lake, his long legs crossed at the ankles. The stiff wind ruffled his hair and brought her the scent of him—clean and male, no trace of aftershave or cologne.
“Bradworth said your name’s Warne now,” he observed. “You married Sam,” he said without a trace of emotion.
“That’s right.”
“I thought he was just a friend.”
“He was. Then he got to be a better one.” She didn’t have to explain anything to Hayden, especially something as difficult and complex as her relationship with Sam. Sam, who had once adored her. Sam, who had wanted to marry her and father her children. Sam, who even early in their marriage had shown signs of being unable to control his alcohol consumption. Nadine had thought she could help him with his problem; he’d denied that there had been a problem at all.
She swallowed a long drink of coffee, feeling the warm liquid slide down her throat. Long ago, Sam had been her friend, Sam had been safe, Sam had been there when Hayden and her family had not. Though their marriage hadn’t always been happy, she didn’t regret marrying Sam, not when she considered her sons. Even with the trouble John and Bobby gave her, she loved them both with all of her heart. Nothing would ever change that. Sam had given her those precious boys.
She felt Hayden’s gaze upon her, and she cradled the warm cup in her fingers as she looked up at him. “What about you, Hayden? I read somewhere you were engaged to marry Wynona.”
He snorted. “Didn’t happen.”
“You never married?”
His eyes turned an angry shade of blue. “Never.” He didn’t bother to explain and she didn’t ask. The less they knew of each other, the better. She had a job to do and their relationship was strictly professional. The fact that she felt nervous around him was easily explained and she’d just have to get over it. Whatever they’d shared long ago had been fleeting and was definitely over.
He drained his cup as the boys tired of their exploration. John ran up the narrow path to the porch. “That’s a great boat, Mr. Monroe.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, the best!” Bobby chimed in.
“I bet it goes real fast,” John hinted, and Nadine wanted to die.
“You boys had better go inside—” she said.
“Would you like a ride?” Hayden asked suddenly.
Nadine nearly dropped her cup. “No!” she said, her stomach doing a somersault as she sloshed coffee on her hand.
“Would I?” John echoed gleefully. “You know it!”
“Me, too!” Bobby chimed in, jumping up and down.
This, whatever it was, couldn’t happen! “Now wait a minute. You have homework and chores and—”
“Aw, Mom, just for a little while?” John asked, some of his earlier belligerence disappearing, his face flushed with anticipation. “Please?”
“Mr. Monroe is a busy man.” She glanced at Hayden for help out of this one, but found him grinning at her discomfiture. She wiped her hand on her jeans. “I just don’t think it would be such a good idea tonight to—”
“I’m not that busy,” Hayden replied. “It’s okay with me. If, of course, it’s okay with you.”
Both boys started begging and pleading at once. Nadine felt her cheeks flush and saw the silent laughter in Hayden’s eyes.
“You don’t have a great track record with boats,” she said, and saw his countenance grow deathly still at the mention of the boat wreck that had nearly taken Wynona Galveston’s life.
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His skin stretched tight over his face, but he didn’t back down and Nadine knew she’d said too much. Deep in her heart, she realized that he wouldn’t hurt her children—not intentionally. And yet letting them go with him was difficult.”Do you have life jackets?” she finally asked.
“Life jackets are for babies!” John declared.
“I even have one for you,” Hayden replied stonily, and Nadine had to grit her teeth. It wasn’t that she wanted to deny the boys a good time, she just didn’t want to get involved with Hayden in any way, shape or form.
“I don’t have time,” she said. “And the boys really should get started on their—”
Bobby’s eyes filled with tears. Silently her youngest beseeched her. She didn’t know if he was putting on an act or not, but he’d been so unhappy lately, she couldn’t find it in her heart to say no to him. “I suppose it would be all right for a little while,” she said, caving in and knowing that she was not only treading in dangerous waters by allowing Hayden any insight into her or her family’s life, she was diving in wholeheartedly! Bobby, the little con man, was suddenly all smiles. His tears seemed to evaporate into thin air. “Be back before dark,” she insisted, still trying to assert her authority. She was, after all, still the mother and therefore still the boss.
“We will!” Her sons were already running back to the dock.
Hayden slowly set his empty cup on the rail. “Thanks for the coffee—I’ll bring them back soon,” he assured her, but there was no warmth in his voice.
Nadine felt instantly contrite. He was just giving her children a much-needed thrill and a little male attention. “Look, I’m sorry for the crack about the boating accident, it’s just that—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped.
She glanced to her boys, already climbing into the speedboat. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“It’s just a ride. Don’t read anything more into it, Nadine,” he said, and she felt her cheeks flush. “Believe me, I’m not getting into anything.”
* * *
THE KIDS WERE rambunctious and excited. They could hardly sit still, and each kept pushing the other out of the way so that he could be in the front and therefore in command. The wind tore at their hair and eyes and they laughed with an uninhibited abandon that surprised Hayden. There had been few times in his childhood when he had felt as carefree as these two rowdy boys. Maybe if he’d had a brother or even a sister to share some of the scrutiny and expectations from his two parents, he would have been able to cut loose a little as a kid and would have avoided the rebellion that had slowly become his guiding force as he’d entered high school and had stuck with him through college.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the little house Nadine occupied was far in the distance.
Frowning, he realized she’d changed. She was different from the girl he remembered. She had filled out and matured, her hair had darkened and her hips and breasts were curvier. Her green eyes still snapped with intelligence but her tongue had become sharper over the years, her cynicism surprising. There was a deep-seated bitterness toward him. She seemed to blame him for some injustice she’d suffered at his hand. But what?
He gnawed on his lips and his eyes narrowed. True, he’d never called her after the accident. His parents had made it crystal clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, that she’d only cared about his money. He hadn’t trusted them of course, but he’d seen the canceled check, the “hush money” of five thousand dollars that his father had paid George Powell in order that his daughter didn’t cry “rape.”
But that was crazy. They’d never made love…not that he hadn’t wanted to. They’d come close a couple of times, and Nadine had seemed more than willing, but they’d never consummated their lust because Hayden had held back, thinking that he was protecting her honor, never wanting her to go through what Trish London had endured.
He shoved the throttle all out and the boys whooped in glee. Their faces were red with the wind and spray from the water and their hair was damp against their heads. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to drive,” he said, and was met with loud shouts from each boy proclaiming that he should be the first to helm the boat.
“Hold on. You first,” he said to Bobby. Slowing the craft, he balanced behind Bobby, ready to take over the wheel at a second’s notice. The boy laughed as they cut across the choppy water, gaining speed near the center of the lake.
Impatiently, John demanded his turn at the wheel. By the time they’d circled the lake five or six times, the sky had turned a dark pewter hue. Lights glowed from Nadine’s cabin, and smoke, barely visible in the fading light, curled from the chimney.
“Better drop anchor,” Hayden said over loud protests from both boys.
“Just one more turn,” John pleaded.
“And have your mother on my neck? No way.” Hayden guided the speedboat inland and shut off the engine after mooring the rocking craft. He walked behind the boys as they scurried up the path to the front door and met their mother on the front porch.
“Look at you,” Nadine said, eyeing their wet clothes and ruddy faces and clucking her tongue. “You’re chilled to the bone.”
Standing in the doorway, the light from the fire casting her hair in its fiery glow, she touched each boy fondly on the head. Hayden felt his diaphragm slam hard against his lungs. Her skin was creamy white, dusted with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks were two spots of apricot that contrasted with the deep, searing green of her eyes.
“Go on. Into the shower. Both of you,” she ordered.
“But we’re not dirty,” John argued.
“You’re wet and cold.”
John looked about to argue further, but thought better of it as he tried to brush past her.
“And leave your shoes out here—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Dutifully both boys kicked off their sneakers and yanked off soggy socks before tromping inside. John turned just inside the doorway. “Oh, Mr. Monroe. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You can stay for dinner!” Bobby said, and Nadine’s complexion paled.
Hayden, glancing at Nadine, shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Please,” Bobby insisted.
“Another time.” Hayden’s gut twisted, and for the life of him he wondered why it was that dinner in this cramped, cozy cabin seemed so appealing. Maybe it was the house. Maybe it was the kids. Or maybe it was the woman. Another man’s wife. His mouth filled with a bitter taste that wouldn’t go away.
“Mom, make him stay,” John pleaded.
“I don’t think anyone can make Mr. Monroe do anything he doesn’t want to.”
“But he wants to. He’s just bein’ polite!” Bobby said, exasperated at his mother for being so blind.
“You could stay,” she said, though there was more than a trace of reluctance in her voice.
“Wouldn’t your husband object?”
She hesitated for a second, as if wrestling with her conscience, then shook her head. She looked about to say something, then held her tongue.
Hayden’s jaw tightened. Was she the kind of woman who kept secrets behind her husband’s back? Hayden had never liked Sam Warne, thought the guy was a whining, self-indulgent slob, but if Nadine had married him, she should honor her vows. Irritated, he stared at her. God, she was sensual—not in a model or Hollywood manifestation of beauty, but in a purely earthy, feminine way that bored right to his soul. Gritting his teeth, he swore to himself that he’d have nothing more to do with her. She was married and that was that. If she wanted to cheat on Sam or entertain men behind his back, so be it. But not with Hayden.
“I’ve got to get back anyway,” he lied, trying to tell himself that the pine-paneled cabi
n with its river-rock fireplace and glowing coals held no appeal for him. No more appeal than the woman standing in the doorway. Before he changed his mind and decided that adultery wasn’t such a sin, before he did something they’d both regret for the rest of their lives, he turned on his heel and walked rapidly back to the dock. Plunging fists deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, he bent his head against the wind. He’d go back to that morgue of a summer home, pour himself a stiff drink and try to make some sense of the corporate records of Monroe Sawmill Company. Somehow, some way, he’d shove all thoughts of Nadine from his mind.
* * *
THE LAST PERSON he expected to find waiting for him was his uncle. But there he was, big as life—Thomas Fitzpatrick himself, unfolding his tall body from the interior of a roomy new Cadillac that was parked near the garage. The Caddy’s white finish gleamed in the light from a security lamp over the garage. Leo, barking furiously, neck hairs standing upright, ran toward Thomas.
“Stop!” Hayden commanded, and the dog, snarling lowly, did as he was bid.
“He looks like he could take your leg off,” Thomas observed.
“Only when provoked.” Hayden hadn’t seen his uncle for a few years and he was struck again by Thomas’s ageless quality. His hair was thick and white and there wasn’t an ounce of extra padding on his trim body. His trademark mustache was neatly clipped and his eyes were shrewd. Somewhere around sixty, Thomas was as sharp as he’d ever been.
“Thought you’d probably show up sometime,” Thomas said as he smoothed the flat of his hand over his hair. “That’s why I waited. Bradworth said you called and I thought I could clear up a few company matters.”
“I can handle it,” Hayden replied, slightly rankled that his uncle thought he needed help deciphering the company books.
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Thomas rewarded Hayden with a wide smile. “The way Bradworth talked, I thought you might be turning the whole damned operation over to charity.”
“Bradworth talks too much,” Hayden said, retrieving a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He shoved it open, and Leo, nails clicking, ran through the foyer.